Secrets Of The Night
by UndressTheseBeautifulLies
Summary: "I've seen you before, you know," She had been silent from that day forward, but what did John Bender know about Allison's life outside of the classroom? Multi-chap Allison/Bender
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**I know that Allison actually walked into the classroom last, but in this, I needed her to be first. I hope you like it. :) It's my first attempt at a multi-chapter, so be nice! ;)**

Allison walked into detention that fateful Saturday morning with one thing on her mind - her newest drawing. Her father disapproved of her hobby, and her mother always backed him, though when she was younger, Allison remembers having her drawings pinned all over the house. So detention was her one escape. Although Allison was ignored at home, whenever she got a pencil out, her dad seemed to magically notice her, and take the pencil away, along with her other art supplies.

Kids in school were under the impression that she didn't talk, and that was fine by her, though it irritated her that they didn't even try to engage with her. She had never refused to speak to someone - it's just that no-one bothered. It had now become habit and someone even looking in her direction made her squirm. This Saturday should be no different - a safe haven for Allison to draw in. Hear the speech about being a delinquent, knowing your place, you sit around for a while, listen into the other kid's conversations, make a mental note of their weaknesses, just in case, have your lunch, and then you wait to be dismissed, where Allison's own private hell waited for her at home.

Allison sat in her normal space, and watched the other kids around her. She had been going to detention on and off for about two months now, and she thought she'd seen it all. She had never seen anyone there who knew who she was, and she liked it that way. Usually it was the younger kids who got Saturday detention. So when four other kids from her year strolled in one by one, Allison's heart rate began to pick up.

She forced her face to remain blank and expressionless while she scoped the situation. None of these kids knew her, she thought, quietly taking off her bag and making herself as small as possible in her warm coat. She watches the next event unfold, the kids taking their own places.

_Great, _she thinks, _that Bender kid is here. I'll probably be the one he decides to torture. _Allison sighs and keeps quiet still, looking down at her desk and concentrating on the lines drawn on the table by other kids here before her.

A redhead took her seat at the front, slipping off her gloves and jacket, and drumming her fingers on the table. One of the popular jocks ambled in next, shaking his head and making noises of irritation. Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes - he was in detention, not prison. He should just shut up and get over it.

Next through the door was a geeky looking kid. Allison had seen him in the cafeteria with his friends. He seemed nice enough, she supposed, if not a little annoying when he stuttered and stumbled over his words like a child would. Not that she had the upper-hand when it came to being perfectly eloquent, she reminded herself, shaking her head minutely at her own ignorance.

Finally, Vernon stalks into the room, his face a picture of disdain, and stands, hands on his hips, in front of the group of teenagers.

"Well, well, here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time."

"Excuse me, sir," the redhead pipes up, "I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention but I don't think I belong here." Allison again resists the urge to roll her eyes at her entitlement.

"It is now 7:06. You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about _why_ you are here - to ponder the error of your ways. You will not talk...you will not move, from these seats. And _you," _he says, pulling the chair out from Bender's legs, "will not sleep!"

He continues on, "All right people, we're going to try something a little different today. We are going to write... an essay... of not less than a thousand words... describing to me who you think you are. And when I say 'essay', I mean 'essay',_ not_ one word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

"Crystal," Bender replies, not bothering to look up. Allison wonders why she ever chose to come to detention today. She was sure it would be the worst yet and it hadn't even started. Usually, this place was her _haven. _Now people she vaguely knew had invaded it. Allison didn't react to any of the happenings around her. Once more, she decided that ignoring it would make it go away.

"Good. You might learn a thing or two about yourself. You might even decide whether or not you'd care to return." At this, the geeky looking kid stood, shaking his head.

"Excuse me sir, I can answer that right now. That'd be no."

"Sit down, Johnson."

"Thank you, sir."

Allison kept her head turned and suppressed a giggle. Maybe _he _wouldn't be so bad. The princess would be, though, she was sure, ditto with Bender.

"My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?" Vernon finally asks, and Allison breathes out. He was finally leaving.

That was true, until Bender nodded his head. "Yeah. I got a question. Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

"You'll get the answer to that, Mr Bender, next Saturday."

Breathing a sigh of release as Vernon exited, Allison found herself chewing her nail, a nervous habit she'd never been able to break since childhood. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and caught herself being stared at by four other students, all open mouthed. Choosing to ignore them, her anxiety grew, and so she continued to chew on her thumbnail, her heart pounding at the attention.

"If you keep eating your hand, you won't be hungry for lunch," Bender says, and Allison feels the anger rising inside of her. How dare he?

Allison's temper gets the better of her, and glaring at him, she spits a bitten nail in his direction, and turns away. "I've seen you before, you know." Bender says.

And that's when Allison begins to remember that day, months ago, that she swore she'd never talk about again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**I'm glad there is some interest in this story, and so here's the next chapter...please tell me what you think about the story in a review or a PM, it makes me sad to know there are people following/favoriting but not telling me what they think. :) **

**Yes, this one ended on a kind of cliff-hanger, too. :P**

It was late on a Thursday afternoon, and Allison was laying on her bed, her Walkman in her ears. Her newest painting hadn't gone so well, and she sighed at the mess of paint and water in front of her. It was only as she took one final glance over her "masterpiece" that she saw the paint stain in cream carpet. Biting her lip, Allison tried to clear it up with one of her painting rags, which only seemed to smear the stain, making it look even worse, if possible.

Her mother would be furious, and her father would be livid. Allison and her parents weren't getting along as it were - she was failing English and scraping Cs in math, and her artwork, the one thing that kept her sane, was being threatened to be taken away if she didn't clean up her act. Now it wasn't only her act she would have to clean, it was her carpet. Her father said one more thing that upset her mother and all of it was gone, thrown away, and Allison's mother felt prouder of their six bedroom house than she was of Allison.

Briefly, she wondered if she could just hide the stain, and then she wouldn't get in trouble. Unfortunately, tomorrow was Friday, laundry day, and since Allison's mother thought she was still too young to know what needed washing, her mother always scalped her room for any laundry. Allison knew she was being checked up on, and it never really bothered her. But tomorrow, the stain would be found, and all her hard work, all her drawings and paints and precious art supplies that she'd worked so hard babysitting for would be lost, and she'd have to start all over.

Sighing once again, Allison decided to come clean. It was always best that way, she found, even if it was painful at first. Her mother would sigh and say, "Really, Allison." And then launch into a personal attack, which usually resulted in Allison being banished to her room. Setting her easel to one side, and putting her paints away painfully slowly, Allison finally stood and went downstairs, where she faced her mother making dinner.

Her mother smiled that dazzlingly fake smile and nodded at her daughter. "Hello, dear," she said, as pleasantly as she could manage. The word _dear _still seemed to leave a bad taste in her mother's mouth, though, by the sour face she pulled seconds afterwards.

"Mom, I accidentally spilled paint on the carpet."

The knife that Mrs Reynolds was using to chop carrots stayed poised in the air, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Slamming the knife down so that a chunk of carrot flew across the kitchen tiles, Allison's mother shook her head and huffed in irritation. "Again?"

"Yes," Allison said, faintly irritated. Obviously it was again, she wasn't telling her from the last time, now was she? "Again." Pushing past her daughter, Mrs Reynolds stepped up the stairs, treading lightly on her sensible kitten heels. Allison heard the door open and she sighed, following her mother as she heard the shriek.

"This room is a _disgrace! _We give you everything you could possibly want, and you repay us like this? You dress like a druggie and you keep that hair like a mop, and not to mention your paintings! They're not even good; you can't draw to save your life. This simply isn't good enough. Your grades are slipping and quite frankly, young lady, I've had quite enough of your drama. This is the final straw. Why can't you be more like me? Don't you want to have a good life?"

Something snapped in Allison. She never usually talked back; indeed she had learned very early on that pretending to listen was the best way forward. But on that day, something changed. Allison glared at her mother.

"I just don't want to end up like _you." _

While Allison didn't know what punishment her mother would come up with next, she assumed it would be asking her father, and he would gather her art supplies up, and make her watch them being thrown in the trash, while he went over the morals of being a good student, and not upsetting her mother. This time, though, it was different. Her mother seized a handful of clothes from Allison's closet, all the things that she never wore, as luck would have it, and threw them into a holdall. Zipping the bag, throwing it into Allison's skinny arms, and then pulling Allison down the stairs by her shoulders, all the while screaming for Mr Reynolds to get up there.

Mr Reynolds' face didn't change as he saw his wife throwing his daughter onto the street, nor did he try and stop it. "That's it, Allison. I've had enough. Maybe life on the streets will make you realize how lucky you really are. Don't come back until you do."

Not quite believing her ears, Allison slowly turned down the street, clutching her holdall with both hands, and trying not to let the hot, angry tears spill down her chalky white cheeks. Turning at the closest corner, she walked into an empty alley, put her back to the brick wall, and slid down it, finally letting the tears seep out of her closed eyelids.

Allison didn't know where she was going to go, or what she was going to do. She didn't have much time to think, as it turns out. When she opened her red, bloodshot eyes, a face leered above her.

"Fresh meat.." he thought aloud, and Allison struggled while he pulled her sleeve back. "Not even a scratch on you, let alone any track marks. We'll have some fun with this one, John..."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **

**So this one is kinda from Bender's POV, though it's in third person. That's why Allison is referred to as "the girl". This one isn't really as good as the last one, but..**

**Also, this was written on my kindle, so if there are any mistakes, my apologies! :)**

John Bender had never really considered the feelings of others - he had spent too much time looking out for himself, and rightly so, as his home was like a constant war zone, and teachers always had it out for him. So that one night, that one night where he actually stopped to think about someone else's feelings, that took him off guard.

Leaning against the wall, dragging on his cigarette, Bender sighed impatiently. He was getting bored; there were no drugs, no alcohol, and only one half burnt out cigarette dangling from his lips. No entertaining fights had ensued tonight, and his friend, Kyle, was always so out of it that having a decent conversation with him was less likely than Jesus Christ resurrecting once again and standing in front of them both in this filthy, rat ridden alley.

And so when a disoriented girl, dressed entirely in black, from the hoodie over the mop of raven hair, right down to her black Chuck Taylors, stumbled into the alley, Bender thinks his night got a whole lot more interesting. He watches with a piqued interest as she slides her back down the wall, and sits on the floor, her hands covering her eyes in despair. The girl rests her head against the brick, and he sees silent tears glistening on her pale cheeks, though she doesn't make a sound.

John doesn't move, instead opting to merely observe in an almost stunned silence. How can this girl be so oblivious to the dangers around her? Her naivety faintly irritates him; why had he had to learn the hard way to look out for himself when this girl walked down strange streets alone, at night? Some things just did not make sense, and in John's mind, this was one of those things. Pushing down that first sense of annoyance, Bender throws his cigarette onto the floor and is about to step forward, tell her how unbelievably _stupid _she's being, when Kyle steps in front of him.

He silently stalks over to the girl's small form, and leers over her. Bender ignores the uncomfortable feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach, and lets the situation unfold before deciding the best course of action. While something inside of him yearned to help the girl, his sense of self preservation was now at an all time high - last week's home beating really slapped some sense into him, as it was intended to do, and he waited, watching once again.

The girl's eyes finally snap open, and she jumped.

"Fresh meat.." he thought aloud, and the girl struggled while he pulled back her sleeve. "Not even a scratch on you, let alone any track marks. We'll have some fun with this one, John.."

Bender sees her eyes flicker to the shadows where he stood, and recognition flashed in her brown irises as she scanned his face. Indeed, he recognized her, too, to an extent. She went to school with him, and she was from the rich neighborhood. He'd seen her walking to school, walking out of her perfect front door, looking so out of place that he immediately formed a bad opinion of her. The fact that she dressed like that, like she had nothing in this world but the clothes she wore on her back and the notepad and pencil she carried irritated him greatly.

He had nothing and in his mind, she had everything, but she was a spoiled rich kid, and she didn't deserve his sympathy. He sneered at her, all the protectiveness he once held for her gone in the blink of an eye.

"Nah," Bender says, shaking his head, tearing his eyes away from hers. "You have her."

He almost feels bad as her eyes blaze with fear, rounded and wide, and her mouth parts in protest, but no words are spoken, and stay stuck in her throat. And then he remembers, what rich kids are like. They don't help you when you need it. They spit on you, and kick you when you're down.

Turning his back on the both of them, Bender walks out of the alley, a lingering trace of guilt settling in his stomach and a general feeling of unease washing over him. This wasn't unusual, however. In his home, you were on a constant state of alert, or you would get hurt. This is what he told himself, at least; as he tried desperately to convince himself that this was true, he heard a distant squeak.

By this time, he was already some distance away, having walked quickly to escape the knots forming in his empty stomach. Groaning and kicking a can on the sidewalk violently away, Bender began to jog back to the alley, his wallet chain jingling in the back pocket of his worn out jeans.

When he eventually made it back to the disgusting alleyway, he almost didn't want to step through it, inwardly cringing about what he would find there. Rolling his eyes at himself, he put one foot into the dark alley, followed by the other a short moment later. Soon, he was faced by the scene he'd been dreading. Kyle still leered over the girl unpleasantly, laughing in her face. Her black hoodie lay next to her, her shirt ripped, leaving her bare back exposed to the cold brick she was pressed against.

Her black skinny jeans remained on her legs, and her shoes were still on her feet. Bender reached one hand forward, and pulling Kyle's filthy shirt collar, he pulled the boy away from her, leaving her still looking terrified.

"The hell, man?" Kyle says, spitting in Bender's direction. Bender spits back and pulls the girl up. He leads her away, out of the alley, tugging on her arm impatiently.

"Keep walking," Bender mutters. It was going to be a _long _night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **

**No, I haven't given up on this story! I have just been a busy girl with school and such. But it's a stormy Thursday afternoon, so I thought I'd try and get this chapter written. I'm sorry for the wait and I really hope you like it. The next chapter will really be the start of something.. (;**

**~ Caitlin**

* * *

Allison didn't know whether she should scream and run away or kiss the boy who was pulling her away from that monster who'd been leaning over her a few moments previously. Instead, she simply remained passive and let him pull her along, her bag scraping on the floor behind her, her head pounding in a steady rhythm along with her heart.

"What are you doing out so late?" Bender says, and then he snorts, mainly to himself. He sounds like a father and yet he doesn't know how - his own has never said such caring words to him. Allison shrugs, and pulls her arm away from him, breathing in deeply. Bender watches with interest as Allison tries to gather her thoughts into a coherent sentence, failing miserably and then trying to compose herself enough to stop the tears from escaping from her eyes.

Why couldn't anyone ever _like _her? Even as a little girl, people had thought her strange. Other kids wouldn't play with her at recess and she'd been okay with that. In high school, she didn't have any friends so to speak of, and she spent her time drawing. While it was a little lonely at times, she survived and was okay with it. But tonight's activities had wiped her out completely, and every bad thought about herself that had ever crossed her mind now piled up and hit her at full force, knocking the breath out of her.

A hand in front of her face brought her out of her dark thoughts, and she sighed sadly, her eyes trailing to Bender's gaze. He did not smile at her, but he didn't seem scary. Allison looked at him blankly, and she wondered what on earth was going through his head at that moment.

Bender wondered the same thing about the strange girl standing beside him. She didn't appear to be particularly scared, and her eyes blinked up at him curiously, and that made him wary. He was realizing a little too late that perhaps she wasn't like all the other rich kids he'd encountered over the years. For while she was pulling her arm away from his grip, he knew this was simply through not liking contact - a trait that he shared - as he could tell by the grimace on her face. And while he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to pull the broken girl into his arms and tell her that he shouldn't have left her in that alley, all the while knowing he never would do such a thing. For now, he bargained with himself, her name would do.

"What's your name?" He tries again, not knowing whether she would answer or not. Allison herself toys with the idea of answering. She wasn't sure of this boy - nor his intentions, be them good or bad.

Choosing to answer in a whisper, Allison breathes out her name. "Allison,"

"Allison." Bender says, shaking his head. "More like Alley-cat." Allison doesn't laugh. She simply watches the boy who hadn't yet identified himself, aware of his own hyper-vigilance. He always watched his back, while making sure she was always beside him, not behind. It was like he didn't know what to do with company. Allison didn't blame him. Her own track record where social interaction is involved isn't exactly glowing, and she doesn't comment on his impatience with her slow walk or the fact that he was pulling her over when he tugged at her arm. "I'm John."

Allison nods sharply in the darkness, not quite concentrating on his words, rather where he was taking her. It didn't seem like they were going to a safer place. Indeed it seemed like they were going further and further out from where she lived, and that made her skin prickle with excitement.

"Wanna have some fun?"

A small smile formed on her lips as she nodded. Tonight, she wouldn't let her own weirdness get in the way, and she would follow John's example. He had, after all, saved her. She chided herself silently, shaking her head minutely.

_Don't let yourself get attached, _she told herself, _you'll only get hurt. _

And yet as he led her into a house lit dimly with burnt out candles and dimmer lights turned right down, she couldn't help a thrill of excitement shooting up her spine. Entering the building, Allison bit back a cough and blinked quickly as the smoky atmosphere stung her eyes. Bender pulled her closer to him, and led her through the doorways. Within minutes, people surrounded John, hitting him on the back and nodding "sups" his way. Allison was content to live in his shadow.

She watched the people rushing past her eyes as she found a dark corner to sit in and observe. She didn't feel safe here, but she didn't want to leave, either. Getting out her sketchpad, she began to draw the scenes unfolding around her. Soon, the page was littered with different scenarios - other kids getting drunk, a couple in the corner who should have gotten a room ten minutes ago, kids getting high, and in the center, John Bender, staring back at her.

Eventually she noticed he had left the place on the couch he had claimed, and she was being yanked up by the arm again. "Bored?"

Allison nods in Bender's direction, and throws her sketchpad into her bag.

"Tired?"

This time, Allison shakes her head. Bender smirks.

"Liar."

The dark circles under her eyes tell John that she is lying, and her paler than ever skin made her look corpse like. Thoughts ran through Bender's mind as he wondered what he was going to do. He sure as hell wasn't going to let her stay on the street after tonight's endeavors, and he assumed talk of her home was a no-no.

Bender sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. In his eyes, he had no other choice. He was going to have to take her home. Inside, he laughed. He was going to sneak a girl into his house, and for once, she wouldn't be going into his wallet of photos.

It felt pretty damn good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Time is flying! It's already June 10th, isn't that amazing? Still, I only have around a month left of school until summer, so hopefully I'll be able to update much more then. **

* * *

"Well, come on, then." Bender says, confusing Allison. She shakes her head, disorientated from one, being pulled up too quickly, and two, where this boy was taking her now. While she was grateful that he was taking her home, she wondered _why _he was being so nice to her.

"Where?"

"My place," he replies smoothly, completely hiding the fact that he was terrified of letting this girl get hurt. "Or do you want to spend a night on the streets?"

Allison shakes her head quickly and follows him, close to his heels the whole way. She has a million questions to ask, mainly about his parents, but she has indeed noticed that he hasn't asked any about hers, and she repays the favor by keeping her mouth shut. After all, that's what everyone always tells her to do.

Ignoring the urge to ask the obvious questions that hung in the air, Allison bit her lip, anxiety filling the empty pit in her stomach. By the time they were in Bender's neighborhood, Allison's anxiety had hit the roof, and she felt a panic attack going on. As silly as it was, she always remember what her mother had told her about this part of town when she was a very little girl, hanging onto her mother's arm and wanting to explore.

"Not down there, Allison," Mrs Reynolds had said, pulling her daughter back by the hand. She stopped, and knelt to the little girl's level. "_Bad_ things happen down there, sweetie." Allison would always remember the chill she felt down her spine, and, though now she knew the extent of her mother's prejudice, she didn't like going down there. Now, in the dark of the night, she felt like that little girl again, and stuck as close to Bender as she possibly could.

Bender stopped, and this sent Allison crashing into him. "You afraid of the dark or something, Alley-Cat?" A faint blush swept over Allison's cheeks, and Bender laughed softly in the shadows the streetlamps cast over them both.

"No." Allison insisted, still blushing scarlet. Shaking his head, Bender smiled at her, though he told himself not to, to act like he didn't care, or couldn't smile. Yet the smile still crept onto his face, and he cursed himself for it.

* * *

Soon, they found themselves on the driveway of Bender's house, covered by the darkness of the night, and shrouded by all the secrets it could hold. Bender cocked his head, and listened. For what, Allison couldn't decipher, but she stood still beside him, waiting for him to make the first move.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Bender stood at his full height, which happened to rather tower over Allison. Nodding his head towards his home, Bender put his finger to his lips, a shhing gesture, and grabbed her hand. "Stay by me, and for god's sake..keep your mouth shut."

Allison nods sharply, and while she doesn't know the full extent of John's current home situation, the ugly yellowish brown bruises that resided on his left cheek that really shouldn't have been there told her all was not well. Bender motions for her to stay where she was, and he swung open his front door. Allison winced as she heard the string of abuse that followed. A loud but feminine voice boomed out, and she attacked the boy as soon as he entered her line of vision.

"What time do you call this, moron?" Allison sighs, disheartened. It wasn't fair that teenagers were berated day in, day out, by their parents. Sticking to her word, though, Allison stays put.

"Time to get a watch." Bender deadpans, a "whatever" tone in his voice. Allison knows this is simply an act, and uses the same voice with her own parents, when really she wants to cry out, and ask to be the little girl loved again.

"Watch your mouth, smart guy, or I'll get your father in here. Harry!"

"What, bitch?" Allison's eyes round at this comment. No matter how annoying her mother was being, to her or her father, Mr Reynolds always treated his wife with the utmost respect, and she had never once heard him even utter a bad word to her.

"I said come in here and sort out your good for nothin' son!"

"I'm gettin' a beer!" A masculine voice replies. A dry, heaving laugh follows, which then was chased by a fit of coughs.

"There's a surprise."

Allison watches the shadows behind the curtains with interest, and the Bender shaped silhouette fades slowly out of the room, a trick Allison had perfected when she was twelve. Fading out into the background was something that always came in handy. She thought about this while she waited, watching the empty street and feeling a chill down her spine, making her cold and on edge. She wishes Bender would hurry up and get her in however he plans to, but she tries to be patient.

Yet she still can't keep her eyes from growing heavier and heavier...and she finds herself falling asleep in John Bender's front yard.

* * *

After making his way to his room, Bender throws all of his stuff into his closet, and stuffs anything remotely dodgy looking under his beaten bed, making the room semi presentable.

_Wouldn't wanna scare off the little rich girl now, _Bender thinks, a little bitterly. He shakes his head and tries to reason with himself that she isn't the same. He opens his window as fully as he can, and leans out. His house - much more alike to an old shack than a pretty semi detached - is luckily only one floor, and Bender would be able to easily sneak in Allison. It was a trick he had perfected many years ago, when he first brought girls home. You'd be surprised how many girls don't mind crawling through windows to get their pants off, Bender always says, with a laugh and a wink.

He leans out of his window and calls her name softly. He repeats this three times, and then sighs, climbing out of the window. He is expecting to find nobody there, and an empty lawn - if that's what you could call the strands of grass that Bender's house sat on. So, Bender is surprised when he sees a small, shadowy figure lying on the grass. Bender shakes his head and wonders if she had any self preservation at all.

Rolling his eyes, and sighing, Bender decides she doesn't. Lucky for her, he wasn't going to leave her to freeze on this cold winter's night, and he first took her bag into his room, throwing it lightly to the side. He then goes back for her, picking up the tiny bundle of black clothes and silent observations in her sleeping form, and takes her into his bedroom with ease. He is unable to believe it as she doesn't even stir, not even when he drops her on the bed, leaving her to sleep. It was pretty late for him, too. Yawning, Bender grabs a pillow from the bed, and an old blanket, and throws them down to make a bed for himself. He wedges a wooden chair in front of his door, and, happy that the door won't open, settles down to sleep.

* * *

When the sun began to shine and the birds began to tweet early in the morning, Allison began to stir. Confused at first, Allison soon realizes where she is, and groans. She groans because of two things - the first of which is that she's essentially homeless, and the second that she badly needs to use the bathroom.

John Bender, meanwhile, remained curled up in a blanket on the floor, snoring softly. Allison smiled at his face, serene in sleep, and fidgeted uncomfortably. Bender always seemed so anxious in consciousness, and it seemed such a shame to rouse him and make him like that again. Eventually, though, Allison gently shook his shoulders.

Bender opened one eye and yawned sleeping. "Still here, Alley-Cat?"

Allison smiles at Bender, nodding her head shyly. Bender gives her a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's time for another adventure. What do you think?"

Allison smiles coyly to herself. She doesn't tell him, but she thinks it's the best idea she'd heard in a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **

**Aloha, guys! :) I hope you like this chapter. (:**

Bender throws the blanket off of him and stretches, yawning loudly and blinking the sleep out of his eyes, always watching her as she warily regards him. Allison wriggles under his gaze and wonders if she'll get a shower this morning.

"My old man'll be out cold for hours yet," Bender remarks, nodding at Allison. "The hot water doesn't always work, but you can try it out," he continues, as if reading her thoughts. Allison murmurs a thanks to him and he nods, a subtle smile lighting up the lower half of his face. "First door on the right," he calls, as she scampers out in search of a bathroom.

Bender pulls off his shirt, replaces it with another from his bedroom floor, and does the same for his pants and underwear. Allison creeps into the room as he is doing so, and blushes a deep red. Dropping her bag, she covers her eyes and squeaks.

"Sorry!"

Bender barely registers her embarrassment, and shakes his head at her in a good natured gesture of saying that it was fine, and then stuffs his wallet in his jean pocket, rummaging through his nightstand and finding a twenty, which seems to please him. "So, where are we going today?"

A smile plays at the corners of Allison's mouth, and she shrugs, drowning in a sea of black fabric. Feeling exposed even though from her neck to her toes she was covered, Allison pulls the thick cardigan around her shoulders, drawing it around her and resting her chin on her hand. "You decide."

"But sweetheart, I decided yesterday," he replies, a glint in his eye. Allison rolls her big eyes at him, and he smiles back at her. "I'm beat after yesterday. One thing's for sure: I'm not spending the day with Kyle, that as-"

"Please don't." Allison whispers harshly, her voice raspy. She'd rather _not _think about that part of last night - not when the rest of her night was so exciting for her, even if she simply stayed to herself for most of it, drawing and people watching.

Bender's eyes soften only for a second before snapping back to the unfeeling expression he wore as a default. He wonders if she usually was more chatty - whether it was him, or indeed last night's events that hindered her speech - or whether she simply liked to think before she spoke. He thought it was more likely to be the latter, as he had seen her around school, and she didn't exactly seem to be the most popular girl, and people tended to pass her by. Hell, he couldn't judge someone not having friends. Sometimes he wished he didn't have friends at all; his own weren't that desirable by many people's standards.

"You going home today?" Bender asks gruffly, not admitting to himself that he was a little afraid of her answer. For the first time, there was someone who Bender actually wanted to get to know, and she might be running right back to Richville this morning.

Thankfully, she shakes her head and sighs, biting the insides of her cheeks. "No."

"Forget about them," Bender says, surprising her, and taking her arm. "Come on, before my old man wakes. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Eventually, Allison leads Bender to her favorite spot in the whole town, a little path down to the river that she spends much of her time admiring and painting. They don't talk very much as they head down to the river, both feeling as if words were unnecessary between them, but Allison rambles when they finally reach their destination.

"It's such a beautiful place. I must have drawn it a million times but I never get bored. I hope you like it, too. Nobody really comes down here - the path is a bit beaten, I'll admit - but I like it a lot. I suppose that people are too interested in-"

Unable to take her incessant ramblings any longer - no matter how much he loved the sound of her soft, sweet voice - and before thinking of his actions, or another way to get her to shut up, Bender presses his lips to hers. Her eyes widen and she gasps through the kiss. Her expression is reminiscent of a deer in the headlights, and she's frozen to the spot. When he pulls away, he senses that she's in a flight or fight kind of situation - and he just knows that she would chose flight.

He's right.

Fleeing through the trees in the forest, Allison curses herself for running away. Not only that, she curses herself for running away in an unfamiliar route; she has absolutely no idea where she's going, or which way is home. _Where is home, anyway? _Allison thinks bitterly. And then she's laughing, because she's run away, but she's running to the danger.

Deep in her heart, even though she still sprints through the foliage, she knows that Bender is not dangerous to her. Touching her lips, still tingling faintly, Allison smiles.

She thinks of the last day. Sure, it's been less than 24 hours, but she trusts this boy. And if he's ready for something more than a friendship, maybe, just maybe...she's willing to give it a go.

Allison spins round in her tracks. Sprinting back the way she came (or at least the way she thinks she came), Allison tries to navigate her way back to the river. After around a half hour, she finds her way back, and Bender's waiting, feet dangling over the riverbed, looking around. When he spots her, he nods a greeting to her, grinning, and Allison sees that familiar sparkle in his brown eyes.

"Looking less like a deer now, Alley-Cat." And then she runs to him, forgetting all her inhibitions, and connecting their lips once again. An identical thought runs through both of the teenager's heads; _I could get used to this._


End file.
